


Jealousy is a hell of a drug

by cigarettesandalcohol



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Bitterness, Happy Ending, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 09:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16427045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettesandalcohol/pseuds/cigarettesandalcohol
Summary: It felt like every time any Real player even touched Luka's hand or smiled at him, a piece of Ivan's heart was ripped out of his chest.





	Jealousy is a hell of a drug

_It's not jealousy_. _It's not jealousy_. _I am not jealous, hysterical or irrational_.

It's just...Luka is so small. So fragile. They don't understand - his teammates can't ever understand - how fragile he is - deep inside - because he always appears to be so strong and stubborn. He never gives up, he never takes a step back - but deep down, he is just a small boy from Dalmatia, with his terrible memories and unstable mind - 

\- he needs to be protected, taken care of, he needs to be kept soft and warm, they shouldn't make him this worn out and exhausted - he can barely breathe, Ivan can see that - 

El Clásico is always a torture. Not only is he forced to play against the man he loves, but he's also expected to celebrate the goals that he knows will hurt Luka - he can't be happy, he can't enjoy the celebrations, because there on the pitch is the small man in white, with number 19 on his back, who looks defeated and desperate - he physically can't be happy at this sight.

He often wonders if Luka feels the same.

But then, when Real scores a goal, every single one of their players seems to congratulate Luka - of course, he is the one who created the chance and made the goal possible with his beautiful pass - suddenly everyone is all over the blonde man, hugging him, kissing him - taking him around his shoulders, exposing him to the cameras, making him giggle and blush and hug them back -

There's Marcelo, kissing Luka on his forehead, and then Gareth Bale, coming from behind, hugging Luka like that and whispering something in his ear, something that made him chuckle and look down humbly and then - turn around - 

Ivan wants to look away but he can't stop staring at the scene that's going on by Barça's net - Luka turned around, and placing his hands lovingly on the sides of Gareth's neck, he pulled him closer for a kiss. A real kiss - a kiss on the lips - a kiss that no guy should ever know from Luka - _except for him_.

Blood rushed to his heart as he watched the scene continue with Kroos ruffling Luka's hair, smiling tenderly - and Luka was repaying all the received affection with his beautiful laugh. How can he do this - _how can he just pretend it's nothing when he knows damn well that I am watching it all?_

A wave of adrenaline made him go harder - with a feverish dedication, he decided to try and score, just to show Luka what it feels like, just to be the one who throws himself in the waiting arms of his teammates _as well_ ; though it didn't work as planned and it was Coutinho who made the ball go in the Real Madrid net - but he was the first one to congratulate the _Little Magician_ , He kissed the side of Phil's head, caressing his cheek, and made sure to dart his eyes at Luka - but Luka wasn't even watching him. His blood started to boil - he couldn't think about anything else than Luka's smile, the smile that was given to his teammates, and _not him_ \- and he felt a painful urge to knock some heads together at that moment.

The equalizing goal did not bring the desired peace of mind - and neither did the next one, the one that sent Barcelona to the victory. Ivan was smiling, patting his teammates on the back, but back in his mind, there still was the image of Luka kissing Gareth on the lips and it hurt him more and more with every passing minute. What the fuck was Luka doing - he had to have it all planned, he had to just provoke him because he knew just how much he couldn't take his eyes off of him - 

 It stayed like that until the final whistle. Barcelona won - and Ivan couldn't feel anything even remotely similar to satisfaction. While all his teammates hugged each other and talked about a great teamwork, he just stared at the defeated team, and at one defeated man who took the ribbon out of his messy hair and shook his head to ease all the hair for once. It was time for congratulations and shaking hands, and Ivan took this chance just as it was given to him. He rushed to shake the referees' hands and then he made his way toward the Real midfielder.

Luka's face was sweaty and flushed, and some hair fell in it as he took the ribbon away.

"Hey!"

"Ivan!" Luka's voice was a bit tired but there was no bitterness towards the man who just lead the rival team to a victory against his own. "Congrats! Well played."

"Yeah."

"Especially the second half - "

"Yeah."

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" he snapped, being louder than he intended to.

"Jesus, calm down."

"How can I?" He grabbed Luka's hand in a gesture that made Luka blink in surprise. "How can I?" he repeated in a much calmer voice, looking Luka right in the eyes. "When everyone just throws themselves on you and kisses you straight away?"

"What? Is this because of Gareth?"

"What the fuck do you think?"

"Come on! It's just a kiss - in the heat of the moment. What the fuck Ivan, are you serious?"

"How would you feel if I went French kissing other guys from my team, huh?"

"It wasn't - What are you even talking about? It was not a French kiss!"

 "Oh, wasn't it? It looked kinda passionate!"

"Jesus, Ivan - Ivan, listen to me, okay?"

 Ivan crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah?"

"You won. Your fucking team won. I should be the one making up excuses and blaming others."

"I'm not blaming you for the win or loss - "

"It hurts, it hurts that we lost, but not as much as you telling me that I have done _this_ on purpose."

"Then why did you do that?"

"I don't know, it was just a momentary idea - we hugged and we kissed and that's all! Don't tell me you've never done this with your teammates."

"Not in front of you!"

"And that makes it better?" Luka was breathing hard, trying to say everything in one breath to make it sound as sharp as he meant it to be. "Look - I don't mean to argue on our day."

"Our day?"

"El Clásico day. It's our day. It's the football day."

Ivan shrugged, leaving the next part of their conversation on Luka again.

"Can we exchange shirts?" Luka asked, pulling his own jersey as if to show him it's worth it. 

"Sure."

They both pulled their shirts over their heads in an almost synchronized manner and handed it to each other. 

"Put it on," Luka said, fitting his hands in the sleeves of Ivan's - _former_ \- shirt. 

"What?"

"Put it on," Luka repeated in a firm voice. "There's no rivalry. The result doesn't matter. This is for football." He pulled the Barça shirt over his head - and _oh God, he looked perfect in it_. "Come on."

Ivan did as he was told, hypnotized. The Real jersey suited him perfectly, and there was something strangely arousing in having Luka's used and sweaty shirt on - he could hear some of the fans whistling and screaming, but he didn't care. He was now in Luka's shirt - and Luka was in his. That was football. The two of them - the two of the same blood and nation - against each other - but in the end, wearing the same clothes.

Luka looked breathtaking in the Barça shirt, the blue and garnet stripes made him look more playful and younger than his usual boring white shirt.

"This really suits you," Ivan said, enchanted.

Luka smiled, opening his arms. "Come here." Ivan obeyed, hugging his Real Madrid counterpart. "And now, just close your eyes and give in to the moment. Can you hear the fans chanting and singing? And your heart beating? Is this what football is really about?"

"Yes," he whispered, feeling his senses sink in the overwhelming feeling.

"Can you take me on your back? Gimme a piggyback ride?"

How could he say no, when having this guy as close as possible was the only thing on his mind for the past few minutes? "Sure."

"Good."

He lowered himself, making it easy for Luka to climb on his back and grabbed his muscular legs from behind to hold him in place. "Hop on."

He could also hear some of the fans cheering and some of the fans booing as Luka climbed on his back and wrapped his hands around his neck but he didn't care - Luka's whole weight was assuring him that this was right, this was the right decision, maybe some ultras will hate him for this but he couldn't care less. With Luka on his back, he couldn't move much but he managed to run in front of the tribune, giving all the fans an easy view of himself and Luka. Some fans were indeed shouting at him, some were cheering and some were cursing, that was all he could read from their faces - 

Luka was waving, he had the nerves to wave to the fans while holding onto his back like that - and some fans accepted this game, they just waved back or shouted something in response, while others screamed _Fuck off_ in his face, and Ivan could feel Luka's fingers digging in his shoulders every time someone hurt his feelings. 

And then, Luka's hot rushed breath brushed against his ear and Luka whispered: "You know I'm only yours, right?"

 "Sometimes I'm not sure about that," Ivan answered.

"It's the one thing that will never change. _I belong to you_."


End file.
